


FF#2 - Game On

by bobs



Series: Arrow Flash Fiction [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobs/pseuds/bobs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity wakes up with a terrible hangover, not sure about what exactly went on the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FF#2 - Game On

When Felicity opens her eyes, she’s almost positive there is a nasty gang of leprechauns with giant sledgehammers doing a merry jig on her head. Reaching a hand for her throbbing temples, she stares at her bedroom ceiling, grimacing, before rolling off the side of her bed and stumbling to her feet.

Advil. Water. Pee. Die.

This is her checklist for the near future.

She fumbles with her glasses but manages to get them in place. On her way to the bathroom to accomplish a majority of her to-do list, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

“Ughhhnnmmm,” is what comes out of her mouth and now that she’s thinking about her mouth, it feels furry and has the terrible aftertaste of some mixture of pine and cherries. 

Felicity grabs for the giant bottle of Advil she keeps above her sink, yet apparently waking up hungover makes you incapable of opening childproof containers.

After a futile few minutes of struggling with the stupid cap she throws it across the room in frustration. Why can’t it just open? All she wants is one or two or possibly three of those beautiful little gel-caps so that the stupid leprechauns and their sledgehammers will stop pounding on her damn temples and then she can concentrate on the uncertain gurgling currently happening inside her stomach and-

“Felicity?” There’s a gentle knock on her bedroom door and she sharply glances up, then regrets that decision when the room does a terrible slow spin around her.

What is Oliver doing here? She’d recognize that voice anywhere, even in her current terrible state, and- OH MY GOD. Oliver is here. In her apartment. Where he never is. Well hardly ever. She knows he’s spent some time on her fire escape, although he definitely doesn’t know that she knows because if he did he wouldn’t do it but he has never been in her apartment. Does he have a key? Did John give him her spare key? How is he here?

She’s barely taken a step towards the door when it’s opening and she stumbles forward to intercept Oliver before he can take in what is surely a terrible mess in her room. She’s barely home as it is, and when she gets home each night slash early morning, the last thing she wants to do is tidy up so there are definitely dirty clothes lying around and she does not want Oliver’s first glimpse of her underwear to be a dirty pair on her floor.

“Oliver!” She slams a hand on the door, stopping him in his path. “Hello! I mean hi. I mean good morning! What can I do for you?”

His eyes move from her face (definitely pale, likely accented by dark circles), down her body (ohmygod what possessed her to sleep in one of Oliver’s shirts, and where did it even come from) and back up again. She can’t read the expression that crosses his face but his eyes darken as he meets hers. He licks his lips and gives her a gentle smile.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks and she thanks some higher power that he doesn’t comment on her current choice of clothing. “Some water? Advil? Leprechaun remover?” His lips twitch.

Felicity flushes then groans. “Was I talking out loud about these damn leprechauns? I mean, they are currently performing some kind of Lord of the Dance routine in my head and while I appreciate some good Irish dancing as much as the next person, I would prefer it not be happing inside my skull. And hang on! Did Oliver Queen just make a joke?”

Oliver shrugs. “Maybe.”

Felicity throws her hands in the air. Apparently she has fallen into some kind of alternate dimension. “Well since you’re here, in my apartment, which is strange to say the least, you need to open this apparently adult-proof bottle of Advil for me. Immediately.” She turns and spots the bottle nestled on her bed beside her pillow, and performs some quick footwork to leap over, grab it, and push Oliver back out of the doorway and down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Here.” She tosses the bottle at him and luckily his reflexes are spot on because a baseball player she is not. She makes her way into the kitchen and fills a glass of water from the sink. Turning, Oliver is much closer than she thought and she nearly bumps into him. Water sloshes in her glass and her heart races to the beat of the pounding in her head. Her nose is nearly touching his chest and she can feel the heat coming from his body and he smells…

“I smell?”

Felicity gives her head a little shake. “What? No! No, you don’t smell. Definitely not bad. I mean if anyone smells in this situation it’s definitely me. I probably smell like a… Actually let’s not go there.”

Oliver looks like he wants to say something; she can see the thoughts moving through his head, but he simply grasps her empty hand and tips three pills into her palm. He folds her fingers over top and says, “Take these. They’ll help.” Then he turns away. “I’ll make coffee.”

She furrows her brows at this dare she say _domestic_ new Oliver, but not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth quickly swallows the pills and the water and makes her way to flop facedown on the couch.

“So…” she starts after a minute, her words partly muffled by the pillow currently smushing her face. “Do I want to know exactly how I ended up in this terribly hungover position on this beautiful Saturday morning?”

She hears Oliver moving around her kitchen, apparently at home. The beeping of the coffeemaker sounds like angels singing hallelujahs. His footsteps come closer and she spots the large mug in his hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of her, then seats himself in the chair near her head.

“Well, we were at the Foundry last night,” he begins, and Felicity manages to push herself up and reaches for the mug of deliciousness waiting for her.

She takes a deep inhale and when the smell doesn’t turn her stomach she takes a tiny sip, a small sigh of contentedness escaping. “Yes. I remember being in the lair. You and Digg were sparring, Roy was watching, there was not much going on criminal-wise. We ate Big Belly?” She looks at him and he nods in response.

“And then… I’m not sure.” She racks her brain, trying to find the missing piece that connects Big Belly Burger in the lair with Team Arrow to hungover Saturday morning.

She swears she has never seen Oliver looks quite so pleased with himself. There’s a little grin playing around his mouth and his eyes have gone all crinkly in the corners as he watches her lift her cup to her mouth. A wave of pleasure rushes over her as she imagines a much cozier morning when Oliver looks at her like that, like she’s made him genuinely happy. She wants that, she thinks. Always.

“Roy.”

Oliver’s voice jerks her out of domestic daydreams and she narrows her eyes as she remembers. “Roy. That little bugger.”

“He was bored,” Oliver says, but Felicity shakes her head.

“Oh no. No way. Do not make excuses for him, Oliver Queen. He knew what he was doing.”

Oliver chuckles lightly. “Well, in his defence, you are quite convincing when you want to be. You had us all believing that you were a champion beer pong player at MIT, as well as excellent at ride the bus, and flip cup.”

Felicity groans.

“I had no idea you were so competitive,” Oliver adds. “Once Roy started suggesting that he could kick any of us at beer pong you just had to prove him wrong.”

Last night is coming back to her in bits and pieces. “Did I win?”

“Oh, you won something,” he says, looking down at her half empty mug.

She’s not sure what that means and says as much.

“Well,” Oliver says, drawing out the word. “You insisted that you could chug a beer faster than I could. And that if I lost I had to make you coffee this morning, and if you lost you would make me coffee.” He shrugs. “Obviously it was game on.”

He meets her eyes over her mug and gives her a smile that can’t quite decipher. For some reason, she thinks he would have made her coffee either way.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one! The hour went so fast - I definitely could have kept going. I hope you enjoy! Constructive comments/criticisms are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!


End file.
